


Graffiti And Late Nights

by bellamybabe



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Police Officer Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamybabe/pseuds/bellamybabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is a homeless graffiti artist in New York City and gets caught one night spray painting a building by your friendly neighborhood police officer, Bellamy Blake. Bellamy's seen her art before and likes it so he lets her off, and upon discovering she's homeless, offers up his couch. Clarke becomes a permanent resident in the Blake household and Bellamy decides to accompany her one night one of her expeditions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Graffiti And Late Nights

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was inspired by [this](http://grifflake.tumblr.com/post/109552065129) post. I saw it and was immediately inspired to write this. It was originally supposed to be a cute little drabble, but I (obviously) got carried away. Also this isn't really edited so it might have some mistakes. Hope you enjoy it!

“Bell, look!” Octavia said excitedly, tugging on his sleeve and pointing. Bellamy stopped walking and looked over at the wall of the building in front of them. The entire surface was covered by a gigantic mural. It was a landscape piece, a dark forest at night, with bioluminescent flowers everywhere. There was so much detail that Bellamy had to stop himself from reaching forward to feel the glowing flower petals. In the bottom corner of the piece, there was a small tiara with the letters CG inscribed in one of the tiny jewels the artist's tag. The tag was familiar to them, because they regularly saw that artist's work around the city, and they'd both really admired them. The siblings stood there for a few moments, studying the mural, before Bellamy remembered the heavy grocery bags he had in his hands. 

“Come on, Octavia. I think my arms are gonna fall off.” He said, his voice slightly strained. She nodded, but took a picture of the wall with her phone, getting a close up of the signature. They walked to the car, Octavia babbling the whole time about what they’d just seen, and making quick work of uploading the pictures she’d taken; she had a special album on facebook for CG's artwork. Bellamy only half listened to her musings, giving nods and sounds of affirmation when needed as he loaded the bags into the car.

It wasn't that he wasn't as enraptured by the mural as she was, he was just less vocal about it. He'd probably get the pictures from Octavia's facebook profile later on and study them on his own after his sister had calmed down about it. He smiled inwardly at her passion; She was always loud and in your face about everything, never one to beat around the bush or mince words. If Octavia felt some kind of way about something, you knew it. Bellamy respected that about his sister, but was nonetheless the quiet, stoic type; always brooding and never discussing his feelings. It elicited a lot of eye rolls from Octavia and a lot of attention from women, as well as some men. 

They got into the car and drove to their apartment, Bellamy carrying most of the food up, as usual. Octavia liked to pretend she helped, but in reality she mainly just took the bags light enough for a toddler to lift. After they'd brought everything up and put it away, Bellamy checked his watch and swore under his breath. 

"Gotta go, O, or I'll be late for work." He said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. 

"Yeah, yeah. Don't find too much trouble, now." She replied. It was what she always told him before he went to work, because Bellamy wasn't the only one who worried about his sibling. He smirked and gave a quick wave before exiting her apartment. 

 

* * *

 

He'd made it to work with fifteen minutes to spare. He'd had to run in the locker room and throw on his clothes, just barely getting dressed before roll call. He jogged up to the command with his partner Miller, bristling at their patrol assignment for the evening. They'd been assigned to the Bedford Avenue Station in Williamsburg, hipster mecca. He hated doing patrols there because he had to be surrounded all night by entitled rich kids that had a penchant for sticking their noses high up in the air as they drunkenly asked for directions. 

They walked the few blocks to the L Train station and hopped on a train to their assigned station, Bellamy grumbling the whole way, and Miller rolling his eyes at him. He was used to the slightly older man's grumbling by now, and took it in stride. They arrived at their post and positioned themselves where they had a good view of the station. Every now and then, they'd walk the perimeter, but there was really no need, as it was almost one in the morning on a Monday night and the station was nearly empty. 

They passed the time by chatting. Bellamy talked about how he'd been worried that Octavia wouldn't go to college after having taken a gap year, but that she'd surprised him by having gotten accepted into Columbia's nursing program without telling him she'd applied. Miller talked about how his boyfriend Monty was in the middle of a crisis about his GRE test for grad school, but that Miller knew he didn't have anything to worry about.

After a few uneventful hours, Bellamy found himself suppressing yawn after yawn, and decided to get a cup of coffee. "Want one?" He asked his partner.

"Yeah, sure." Miller replied. Bellamy told him he'd be back, before climbing up the steps of the station and stepping out into the empty summer streets. He began the walk to the twenty-four hour bodega at the corner when he heard the unmistakable sound of spray paint. He considered ignoring it and just getting the coffees, but found his feet walking toward the sound anyway. 

He peered around the corner of the building the sound came from and saw a petite blonde woman with slightly worn looking clothes and a masquerade mask covering the top half of her face so she couldn't be identified if seen. He quirked an eyebrow up in surprise, not expecting the scene in front of him.

Bellamy stepped around the corner, clearing his throat to alert her of his presence. She didn't stop, though, so he could only guess she hadn't heard him. 

"Excuse me, miss." He said, his voice just a tad louder than he'd wanted it to be. She jumped in surprise and yelped, the can in her hands clattering to the floor, the sound amplified by the quietness of the street. She spun around, the surprised look on her face hardening into one of distrust when she saw Bellamy. He waited for her to speak, but when it was clear that she wouldn't, he went first. 

"Do you have a permit to spray paint this wall?" He said, taking stock of the woman in front of him. She was shorter than him, clad in a loose black tank top and cut-off black shorts. She had a pair of black and white converse on her feet that he was surprised still functioned as shoes due to their beat up state. She didn't appear to have any weapons on her, but Bellamy knew better than to assume. After a few minutes of silence and staring, he realized she didn't plan on answering his question and sighed, not in the mood for this. 

"Ma'am, I asked you a question. Do you have a permit to paint this wall?" He asked, his eyes flitting quickly to the brick wall beside them. He stopped, then, recognizing the style of the art. He looked over to the woman in front of him, who was still sporting the same defiant stare, and back at the wall again. 

"Are you...you're CG?" Bellamy asked curiously. He saw her eyebrows shoot up in a look of surprise and her lips started to curl into a proud smile, before she seemed to remember the situation, and rearranged her features into the same defiant stare. Again, she said nothing. 

"Don't move." He said, giving her a stern expression, before turning his full attention to the wall. There was a cluster of spray paint cans arranged neatly in front of the wall. He squatted down and saw that they were organized by color, with a gap in the middle from the can she'd been using when he found her. 

He stood back up and saw that a few feet over, there was a backpack and a duffel bag, both well-worn and sporting a fair amount of holes. He then looked at what she'd been creating, and saw that it was a clearing in another forest, but this time it was clearly day time. She'd started making a deer, an apparently mutated one with two faces, the head and half of the torso done. 

"This is amazing." Bellamy said, turning to the woman again. A faint blush painted her cheeks, and she was glad then that the mask obscured most of her face. Bellamy took a deep breath and stepped closer to her, hesitating for a few moments before he spoke.

"Listen, I'm gonna let you off, okay? But only because I really like your stuff and it would be a shame to not let you finish this." She shot him a grateful look, letting herself smile this time. 

"Thanks." She responded, her voice huskier than Bellamy had expected. He immediately wanted to hear it again. He nodded and waved her off, before taking another look at the bags, and turning back to see her worn out clothes.

"You homeless?" He asked. She stiffened at his seemingly out of nowhere question and nodded after a few moments. He looked away and brought a hand to his neck, rubbing at it as he considered whether or not to speak the words dancing on his tongue. He took a deep breath.  _Fuck it._

"I have a couch." Bellamy blurted out. The woman frowned in surprise, clearly not having expected him to say that. She took a moment to speak, choosing her words carefully. 

"Are you...asking me to stay with you?" She said, her words laced with disbelief. He couldn't blame her, really. They'd only met about ten minutes ago, and he'd been fully prepared to arrest her then. 

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Bellamy said. "But only if you want to." He quickly added. She paused for a few moments, considering her options. Sleeping on a couch would certainly be better than curling up behind a dumpster in an alley with one eye open, hoping no one tried anything on her. She pursed her lips in thought as he waited anxiously. _Wait, why am I anxious? Why am I even doing this in the first place?_  He asked himself, but she spoke before he could think about it.

"When do you get off?" She asked. He cocked his head in confusion at her question.

"Two hours." He responded. She nodded, her lips still pursed. His eyes flicked down to them and he thought that they looked soft and inviting, before he realized what he'd just thought and quickly looked away from them. 

"Then I'll let you know in two hours." She said, finally. He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. 

"You didn't think I'd make a decision like this on the fly without thinking about it, did you?" She asked. Bellamy shut his mouth at that. He supposed she was right about that. 

"Okay, fair enough. If you decide you want to, meet me at the Broadway Junction train station at 6." He said. She nodded and turned back to the wall, dismissing him. He began to walk away, before spinning around and reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He thrust enough money for a train fare at her, surprising her, before briskly walking to finally get that damn coffee. 

When Miller asked what had taken him so long, Bellamy lied easily, saying that he'd encountered a drunk woman and had to find a cab for her in the empty streets. Miller had simply shaken his head and said that he tried too hard.  _You can say that again,_  Bellamy had thought. 

 

* * *

 

Back at the station, Bellamy waved goodbye to Miller as he walked down the steps of the precinct. 

"Officer." He nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected voice, spinning around with one hand on where his gun should be, before realizing it was now in his waistband, since he'd removed the utility belt. He didn't reach for it though, when he saw that the voice belonged to none other than CG, who was standing several feet away with her hands up, squinting at his hand in distrust. He relaxed his posture and tilted his head toward his car.

He went to grab her bags from her, but she jerked away when he did. His eyebrows knitted together, but he let it go and opted for opening the door to the back seat, before she deposited them into the car. They climbed in, and he pulled out quickly, anxious to get to bed. They arrived at the apartment building where he lived in under fifteen minutes, as there were very few cars on the road, and Bellamy didn't bother to stop for red lights and stop signs. They didn't talk while he drove, but the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. Slightly uneasy, yes, but not overly so. 

Bellamy checked his watch when they arrived at the building and saw that they'd make it back before Octavia left for work. He smiled to himself, because he knew that she liked to make sure he was alive before she left, and he liked to make sure she ate breakfast before he collapsed into bed. 

They got in the rickety old elevator that smelled like piss and rode in silence for a minute, before Bellamy spoke. "You're still wearing the mask." He pointed out. She reached up and touched the cheap material, having gotten so used to the feeling of it on her face that she'd forgotten she was still wearing it. She reached behind her and pulled on the string, undoing the bow, and removed it, before stuffing it into her duffel bag. Bellamy finally got a look at her face and found himself biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from blurting out that she was beautiful. 

Her blue eyes were even more striking now that they weren't obscured, even in the dim lighting of the project elevator, and her blond hair framed her face perfectly now that the mask wasn't getting in the way. He quickly looked away, before she could realize he was staring. The elevator opened then and he led the way to his apartment, letting her in first. 

"O?" He called out. "I'm home." Octavia appeared almost instantly, harried and half-dressed, giving him a quick hug, before running back into her room to finish dressing while shouting questions at him about his shift. Bellamy turned to CG, who was caught halfway between confusion and amusement. 

"She'll realize in a second." He said. Sure enough, not a moment later, Octavia's questioning stopped abruptly and she reappeared, one high heel on her foot, and the other dangling from her finger. She gestured between the two of them with the hand holding the shoe, not bothering to voice her question. 

“O, this is CG.” Bellamy said, by way of introduction. His sister looked confused for a moment, before taking in the spray paint stained, broken down clothing on the stranger in front of her, and widening her eyes. She stood slack jawed for a moment before rushing forward and enveloping the surprised woman in a hug. 

"Oh my god, I can't believe it! You're you! You're CG!" She said, pulling back, a wide grin on her face. 

"Um, you can just call me Clarke. That's my-my real name." The woman said, a tight lipped smile on her face. Octavia grinned widely and held out her hand to shake, which Clarke accepted. 

"I'm Octavia, Bellamy's sister." She replied. She opened her mouth to speak again and Bellamy knew she was about to assault the woman with questions, so he stepped in before she could. 

"Clarke here is gonna be staying with us for a little while." He said, right as she opened her mouth to shoot off questions. They exchanged a look, Octavia knowing to hold her tongue, but still sporting a wide grin. She pulled Clarke into another surprise hug, though this one ended quickly. 

"I'm so excited to get to know you! Don't hesitate to make yourself at home, and let me know if he forgets to mind his manners." She said, before turning back to finish getting ready for work. Bellamy looked over at Clarke from the corner of his eye, and saw that she looked somewhat more at ease than she had on their way over, but she still had that guarded expression on her face. 

"So, uh, I guess you'll wanna get some sleep." He said, scratching the back of his neck. Clarke nodded, her body seeming to remember all of a sudden that she'd been up all night. 

"I've got some extra blankets and stuff in the closet you can use. Uh, make yourself at home, I guess." He said nervously, before heading to grab the stuff. 

Clarke gave him another tight lipped smile and nodded, heading over to the couch. She gently placed her things down on the floor and took off her shoes, before sinking into the couch. She felt a contented sigh escape her lips at the feeling of laying on something other than a stack of newspapers, or a broken down old mattress that may or may not have had bedbugs. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, thinking about the odd night she'd had and the weird, nervous cop with the adorable spray of freckles and the gelled back hair that was practically begging for her to mess it up.  _Wait, did I just think that?_

 

* * *

 

Clarke slowly opened her eyes, bolting upright at the strange surroundings. Her mind panicked for a moment, before she remembered why she was laying on a stranger's couch. She looked down and saw that she'd been covered with a blanket at some point, though she didn't remember having put one on. 

"Afternoon, princess." A voice called out from behind her. She turned and saw Bellamy standing with two cups of coffee, dressed in boxers and a white t-shirt, and raised an eyebrow at the nickname.

"Well, because of the...ya know." He gestured vaguely to his head with one of his hands, the coffee inside the cup it held threatening to spill over from the movement. 

"My tag?" She finished. He nodded, then shrugged when the quizzical look on her face didn't change. He held out one of the cups to her, which she gladly accepted. 

"I don't know how you take it, so it's just black." He said. She nodded and gave him a small smile in thanks, before taking a sip, suppressing a moan. She hadn't had a good cup of coffee in months and the liquid in her hands was doing all kinds of things to her right then. She realized after a moment that he was standing awkwardly behind the couch, so she rearranged herself and the blanket to give him room to sit. They sat in silence for a few moments, the only noise being made by the sound of them sipping the coffees in their hands. Neither one of them wanted to speak first, and they were both stubborn enough to hold their ground. In the end, Clarke broke first. 

"Can I take a shower?" She asked after about fifteen minutes of silence. It was what she was looking forward to most when she had decided to take Bellamy up on his offer. He nodded and pointed out which door was the bathroom. 

"There are some clean towels in there. Do you, uh, have any clean clothes?" He asked. She looked down at her bags and shook her head. He stood then, and held out his hand to pull her up from the couch. 

"Come on, I'll put your clothes in the wash. For now, you can borrow something of Octavia's. She won't mind." Clarke opened her mouth to protest, because wasn't it enough that she was intruding on their lives like this? Now she was going to take his sister's clothes? She looked up, ready to argue, but stopped when she saw the stern look on his face. He knew she'd resist, and his expression said that he wouldn't take no for an answer. She sighed and let him pull her up. 

 

* * *

 

Bellamy put Clarke's clothes in the washer while she showered, making a face at the smell of the clothes she obviously hadn't been able to wash in some time. He wondered, as he added detergent, how she'd ended up in the predicament she was in. He'd grown up in shitty neighborhoods all his life and saw the way a life on the streets made you carry yourself, made you react to the world, but he noticed that she didn't carry herself that way. 

She spent the better part of an hour in the shower, though Bellamy couldn't really blame her, seeing as she probably hadn't had a proper shower in months. If her were her, he'd probably stay under the water all day. 

He moved to the kitchen and started getting together the things he needed for dinner, since he knew Octavia would be home soon. No sooner than he'd started seasoning a steak did Clarke emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, wet hair hanging loosely, and a much more chipper look on her face, though she still wore a guarded expression that Bellamy suspected she wasn't even aware of anymore. He wondered for a moment how she managed to look like a supermodel even with wet hair and dark circles under her eyes, before pushing those thoughts from his mind. 

"Good shower?" She nodded and gave him what appeared to be a genuine smile, eliciting one of his own. She walked over to the kitchen and stood there for a moment, hesitating.

"Do you, uh, want some help?" Clarke asked. Bellamy turned his head to her in surprise and shrugged.

"Sure. Could you do the garlic bread?" He asked. She nodded and walked over to the oven, staring at it for a moment before finding the button to preheat it. She sliced the long loaf of Italian bread in half and got to work on it. They worked in silence for a short while, the knowledge that Clarke was standing in a stranger's kitchen making dinner with him when the day before she was wondering where her next meal would come from sitting heavily in her mind.

Octavia came home not long after that, nearly bubbling over with stories of her day and the various hijinks that her coworkers had gotten up to. Clarke listened and observed the way the two siblings interacted, a small smile present on her face throughout the dinner. She hadn't had a nice family dinner in a long time, and being with the Blakes put her more at ease than she'd been in months.

 

* * *

 

"Shit!" Clarke muttered. She'd just fallen off the couch for second time that week, and on the same spot. She rubbed at the spot on her back that had just taken another beating, before standing up.

"You alright, princess?" She looked over to see Bellamy's head sticking out of the doorway to his bedroom, an adorably sleepy look on his face. Her gaze lingered on his hazy eyes for a minute before she shook herself out of it.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just keep falling off the stupid couch. Go back to sleep, it's your day off." She said, her hand still subconsciously rubbing her back. Bellamy shrugged and disappeared back into his room.She looked over at the clock that hung over the TV and saw that she would've had to wake up in less than a half hour anyway.

It had been several months since Bellamy had caught her tagging up that wall, and Clarke had become a permanent fixture in the Blake household. She wasn't sure exactly when it had happened, but she'd become more and more comfortable in the small apartment, and the siblings had almost effortlessly found a place for her in their lives. Their couch was her home now.

Bellamy would come home and find Octavia sitting raptly as Clarke described the artistic process to her, explaining how it felt to hold a paint brush or a pencil or a spray paint can. It didn't take long after that for Bellamy to come home to find his living room covered in plastic and the women dressed in baggy clothes and spray painting giant tarps they'd taped up to the walls. At first, he'd fretted like the mother hen he was about getting paint on the furniture, but eventually he came to expect it and settled for watching them as he made dinner.

While the transition had been effortless for the Blakes, it had been a bit bumpy for Clarke. She hated that she was essentially mooching off of the siblings, taking up space in their lives. It didn't help that she and Bellamy were constantly dancing around each other, afraid to get too close. Every now and then, she'd feel like they were making progress, but then he'd tell a story about an arrest he'd made, and she'd be reminded of the reason they met in the first place, or he'd make a small side comment or joke and she'd take offense to it.

They both had big personalities and she found that they often clashed, and she constantly found herself embroiled in an argument with him about one thing or another. They were usually petty arguments about nothing in particular, but every now and then, he'd hit a nerve. He'd once brought up the fact that he'd saved her from homelessness when he didn't have to (to which she'd replied by packing up her things and attempting to leave, until Octavia stepped in, nearly murdering her brother in the process), and he constantly made references to her illegal activities (to which she'd challenged him to arrest her. He hadn't).

Clarke sighed then and made her way to the bathroom to shower before Octavia woke up. She checked the calendar on her way back from the bathroom and saw that rent was due the next day. Clarke had started paying rent after Bellamy had made an off-hand comment about it one day. She knew he didn't actually care, but it reminded her again that she was living off their kindness.

When Bellamy had woken up the day after and found a hundred and fifty dollars in small bills on his night stand, he'd felt like complete shit for ever making the comment before it occurred to him to wonder how she'd gotten the money, seeing as she'd mentioned on more than one occasion how difficult it was to get a job (most of the cops that had caught her hadn't been as lenient as Bellamy). He'd gone and spoken to Octavia privately after that, explaining the situation. The very next day, Clarke had been hooked up with a job at Octavia's office, with Octavia explaining it off by saying that she was tired of the other woman's complaining about her job search. Clarke never told him that she'd spent the day at Central Park gouging tourists for their money by drawing caricatures of them. It was what she did whenever she needed a few extra bucks.

Clarke knocked softly on Octavia's door, slowly pushing it open. She saw that the younger woman was still asleep, so she quietly padded over to the closet where she'd been allowed to place the new clothes she'd bought for the job, and pulled two items out at random, before tip toeing to the bathroom to get dressed and fix herself up.

Later that day, Clarke sighed in contentment as she sank into the couch, Octavia doing the same beside her. It'd been a long day at work, the two of them running back and forth all day without any breaks. She was just glad to finally be able to rest her feet and throw off the heels she'd been wearing.

Bellamy walked into the apartment then, a look on his face matching that of the women. "Today's definitely a pizza day." Octavia said after one look at him. He walked over to them with a mischievous smile on his face and plopped down into the nonexistent space between them, eliciting loud protests. They adjusted to accommodate him and he threw his arms around their shoulders, Clarke stiffening just a bit at the touch. It was quick, but Bellamy noticed, and his eyes flicked over to her as he went to remove his arm from her. Clarke got up then, and walked over to the phone to order the pizza for them.

 

* * *

 

An odd clinking sound coming from the living room woke Bellamy from his sleep. He looked over at his clock, which told him that it was almost 1am. He knit his eyebrows together in confusion and climbed out of bed, poking his head out to see what Clarke was doing.

She was bent over in front of her duffel bag, trying—and failing—to quietly stuff all her spray paint cans into it. He stared at her ass for a second, before realizing that he was probably being a total creep. He cleared his throat to get her attention. She shot up and turned in alarm, relaxing slightly when she saw that it was just Bellamy, but not all the way. He walked over and gestured to the bag, a quizzical expression his face. She raised an eyebrow as if to say  _"Do I really need to explain?"_  

He remained silent and she went back to arranging her bag. She pulled out her mask from the backpack and stuffed it into the duffel, then double and triple checked she had everything, all the while acutely aware that Bellamy still stood there watching her. She tried to ignore it, but got fed up after about five minutes of silent staring. 

"What?" She hissed, turning to face him once more. He flinched almost imperceptibly when her voice broke the silence, but recovered quickly, then crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow in much the same manner as she had before. " _I'm a cop, remember?"_ it said.

Clarke sighed. "I'm not gonna stop just because you don't approve." She said. 

"It's not that I don't approve. It's just..." He trailed off and she gave him an expectant look. "It's dangerous. You could get caught or mugged or something." He finally said, looking down at his feet. 

Clarke furrowed her brow in confusion. She wasn't exactly going out and robbing banks for fun. She was just spray painting, and the only times she'd ever been caught were when it was the end of the month and the officer had seen her as a means to meet his quota. 

"I was homeless for several months. I think I figured out how to take care of myself." She pointed out. Bellamy nodded, still trying to come up with a reason to stop her. 

"I'll be fine. Go back to sleep." She said, reaching down to grab her bag, hoisting it carefully on her shoulder so as not to wake Octavia. She didn't get more than a few feet away before she was stopped. 

"Wait!" Bellamy called in a loud whisper. She stopped moving and turned around, her mouth open to tell him to give it up. "Let me come with you." He blurted out.

She snapped her mouth shut in surprise, her eyebrows shooting up. She gave him a skeptical look. "You, the guy who refuses to go into the express lane at the supermarket with 9 items, want to come with me to engage in an activity that you almost arrested me for once?" Clarke asked dubiously. "Why?"

Bellamy hesitated for a minute. He couldn't exactly tell her that it was because he was worried about her. If he did, she'd just tell him to fuck off and that she could take care of herself. Which she could, Bellamy knew, but still. This was the guy that freaked out if Octavia went out and didn't text him when she got to her destination. "I wanna see how you do it." He said with a shrug after a few moments. 

Clarke was still skeptical but she realized she was just wasting precious time by arguing with him. The longer she waited, the less she'd get done, and the more time she'd have to spend going back to finish the piece. She sighed. At least if he came, she'd have a lookout. "Fine. Hurry up and get dressed. Dark clothes." 

 

* * *

 

Clarke rolled her eyes for what must've been the millionth time and suppressed an amused smile. She'd never seen Bellamy so nervous before and it was funny as hell. He kept whipping his head side to side to make sure no one would see them, and she had to remind him that it was 2am on a Tuesday night. 

"If you keep whipping your head like that, you're gonna break the mask. It's not that sturdy, you know." She said, the amusement in her voice clear. Bellamy made a face at her, but reached a hand up to touch the cheap plastic party mask she'd made him buy at a late night 99 cent store. The string was so thin, he was surprised it was even capable of being tied without snapping. 

"Alright, we're here." Clarke said abruptly, before he had time to respond to her. Bellamy looked around in confusion. All the buildings had windows and doors so close that there would be no room for one of her murals, and there weren't any alleyways that he could see. 

"Where's here?" He asked. She raised her arm up to show him and Bellamy's stomach dropped. Of course she'd decided to paint the blank billboard 45 feet above their heads. He sighed, hoping for the thousandth time that night that Clarke knew what she was doing. 

She walked over to the back of the large support structure and positioned her bag so that she could climb the small ladder to the top. Bellamy followed behind her, grumbling to himself as they climbed higher and higher. They finally reached the top after a few minutes, Clarke taking a few seconds to catch her breath. Climbing that high with a heavy bag on her back wasn't exactly easy. 

"Okay." She said, gathering her thoughts and bending down to pull out and arrange her cans. "You're going to be my lookout. If you see anyone, let me know." Bellamy nodded and found a spot where he could do his job but still see her clearly. He moved to carefully sit down, so as not to slip off the tiny walkway. 

Clarke stood still for a moment, lips pursed in thought, before reaching down and grabbing one of the cans, shaking it vigorously and starting the mural. Bellamy turned away to look out at the street, watching diligently for about fifteen minutes, but turned back to face her after he realized she was right about there not being anyone on the street at that time. He watched her for a while, neither of them speaking, and the only sound that of clinking cans as she switched colors. 

She moved surprisingly quickly, the picture forming easily as she deftly controlled the cans. "How do you make them so fast?" Bellamy asked after a few minutes. She didn't answer at first, seemingly in a trance as the picture came to life. He was about to ask again when she responded. 

"Oh, I draw them beforehand, as many times as I can. I practice which colors to use when and where to start to get it done as quickly as possible. At this point, I could probably draw this in my sleep. It'd probably be even quicker if it weren't so large scale." She explained, never pausing or taking her eyes off the work in front of her. He nodded in response and turned back to the street, listening to the hiss of the spray leaving the cans. 

After another stretch of time (Bellamy didn't bother keeping track), the sound stopped and he looked over to see why she'd paused. She'd set the can she was holding down and was rubbing her shoulder, moving to take a seat next to him. 

"Gotta take breaks every now and then. It's a real bitch on the shoulders." She explained. She reached over to pull the mostly empty duffel bag toward her and reached in, grabbing two beer cans. She held one of them out to him and he accepted it with a smile. They sat in silence for a few, sipping the beers. 

"Princess?" Bellamy said, breaking the silence. She made a small humming sound in response, keeping her face forward, a somewhat peaceful expression on it. Bellamy hesitated before asking what his question. "Why were you homeless? You don't seem like the type that would have to be." He said carefully.

Clarke kept her face forward and sighed knowingly, not surprised at the topic. She'd managed to avoid talking to him about her circumstances. She'd spilled some of the details to Octavia a little while back on a night where they were both a little too tipsy for boundaries, but she hadn't told either of the siblings the full story yet. She figured he deserved to know, though, since he'd respected her decision to keep quiet for so long. 

"I was supposed to be a doctor. I went to college upstate and was studying pre med. I was dating this guy Finn. Typical hippie free spirit type. Anyway, I was kind of...I dunno. I guess I was unhappy, but I didn't realize it for a long time. I just figured I was stressed out from all the classes, but after a while, I finally realized I didn't want to be a doctor. I told my parents and, of course, my mom has a fit. I tried to tell her I never wanted to be a doctor, that I was just doing it to please her but she was having none of it." Clarke huffed in frustration, clearly still not over it. 

"My dad tried to keep the peace and find a compromise but I got my stubbornness from her. After a few weeks of fighting, I think I'm finally starting to wear her down, and then-" She stops speaking then, her voice cracking and her breath catching in her throat.

She finally turned her head to look at him and the despair in her eyes broke his heart. "He died, Bellamy. He just  _died_." She said, her voice thick with tears. "He was driving and some guy t-boned him and killed him on impact." She said, struggling to force the words out. Bellamy reached over and put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him. She flinched at first, before melting into his touch, burying her face into his chest. He rubbed her shoulder soothingly and stayed silent, waiting patiently until she was ready to continue. 

After a few minutes of sitting like that, Clarke took a deep, shaky breath, the tears finally finished. "I went to tell Finn about my dad and when I went to his room, he was in bed w-with his girlfriend of  _five years."_  Bellamy's nostrils flared at this bit of information and his grip on her shoulder tightened. Clarke reached up and gently touched his hand, relaxing them.

"It's fine, really. I'm not upset about him. It wasn't really serious anyway. I was just mad that he'd made me the other woman." She said quietly. "Anyway, I-I tried talking to my mom after that, but she just closed herself off to everyone. She wouldn't even talk about my dad. At the funeral, I tried to get her to say something, anything, but...she just looked me dead in the eye and gave me an ultimatum: finish college and become a doctor or-or she'd disown me. That was the last time we spoke and, long story short, I ended up homeless." She finished, her face still in Bellamy's chest. 

Bellamy had no idea what to say to her story. All he could do was hold her and he hoped that that could be enough. He pressed his lips to her hair and murmured an  _I'm sorry_. He knew it wouldn't make a difference, but he wanted to say it. She pulled back slowly, offering him a sad smile, before giving a humorless chuckle.

"Well that's my tragic backstory." Clarke said, her voice small. Bellamy reached up and swiped his thumb against her cheek, wiping away one last tear that had fallen. She reached up and pressed her hand to his, holding it against her cheek, before turning her head and pressing a tiny kiss to his palm. 

The spot where her lips had been was warm and tingled as though he'd been shocked. He moved forward until their lips were practically touching, stopping just before they did. Bellamy met Clarke's eyes and she nodded, just barely. He closed the distance then, pressing his lips against hers. She immediately responded, moving her soft lips in tandem with his and Bellamy let out a tiny gasp when Clarke tangled her fingers into his curly mop of hair, pulling gently on it. 

They kissed lazily for a few moments before she pulled back, her breathing heavy and her lips tinged with red from the pressure. She looked up at him and smiled, causing him to grin at her. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek before moving to stand up. 

"I should finish this." She said. "Don't wanna be here all night." He nodded, the grin still plastered on his face. He watched her as she finished, neglecting his duties as look out in favor of staring at Clarke. After another hour or so, she finished the piece and stood as far back as she could to admire it. Bellamy went to stand next to her and and they appraised it silently. 

It was a picture of a girl with long dark hair and olive skin that looked suspiciously like Octavia. Her face was obscured, but her arms were out and her head tipped back as though she'd never been happier. She was surrounded by a dark forest and the stars shone on her and the trees, but Clarke had done the sky like  _Starry Night,_  and the clashing styles somehow blended perfectly. 

Clarke reached into her bag and pulled out a beat up looking polaroid camera then took a picture of the billboard. She waited for the picture to develop before gently placing it into a pocket inside the bag that was bulging with photos of all the other murals she'd done. She then bent down to gather up the all the cans, not caring how loudly they clinked anymore. She stood up and went to put the bag around her shoulders, but Bellamy reached over and grabbed it before she could. She made a face at first, but let him take it from her.

 

* * *

 

They arrived back to the apartment as the sun was rising and Clarke instinctually went to take her place on the couch. Bellamy followed her and set the bag down next to the couch before clearing his throat. 

"Did you, um, wanna sleep in my bed tonight? It's bigger than the couch and-and you probably won't fall off." He said, raising his hand to the back of his neck. Clarke smiled and walked toward the bedroom without a word, grabbing his hand as she did. 

They settled under the covers, Clarke having stripped off her dirty clothes and changed into a shirt and some sweats of Bellamy's. She was practically swimming in them but he didn't care. Her head was settled on his chest and his arm was under her back and she felt her eyes start to droop. 

"Clarke?" 

"Mmm?" 

"Octavia's gonna freak when she sees it." He said, his words slowing toward the end of the sentence. Clarke smiled into his chest.

"Octavia's gonna freak when she sees  _us."_

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated :) Also, check me out on [tumblr](http://johnlaurenses.tumblr.com)


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